Bonding Time
by LKenzie
Summary: The distance between two people may be great, even if they're standing next to one another. Will finds that one gap he wishes to close may be bridged more easily than he'd hoped. Warning: PostAWE.


**Author's Note: This is a (relatively) short and sweet little ditty I wrote a couple of hours ago. And, as I'm sure some will be disappointed to discover, this fic is about some father and son interaction instead of any hot an' heavy action between a certain blacksmith and his pirate king (or queen, if you want to be technical about it). This is post-AWE, so if you're afraid of spoilers you'd best steer clear; of course, if you don't want to risk exposing yourself to spoilers, one must wonder why you're reading fanfiction in the first place.**

**Disclaimer: What follows is a piece of fiction from which no revenue is generated and no profit made. The characters and associated story are not mine. All credit goes to the mouse.**

**Bonding Time**

**by L.Freyja**

The beginning was the hardest, Will discovered. A month of immortality had already sped by, hastened by the fact that he tried to keep himself busy. He'd already become accustomed to life on a ship and he had no trouble issuing orders or ferrying souls. He'd already accepted that no matter how much his heart ached for her, he would not see or speak to Elizabeth for ten more years. Not a day would go by in which she failed to enter his thoughts; the memory of her voice, the touch of her fingers on his hand were all to poignant. He would respect those memories and cherish them, but he would not wallow in despair.

What did trouble him...

"Captain Turner?"

...was his father.

Will turned his face away from the morning sun he'd been basking in. He opened his eyes to find his father standing by the wheel. The two of them had only begun to close the gap between them, but they had still had a long way to go. The elder Turner had taken to calling him by his given name only when most of the other crew was absent or distracted, although Will wasn't sure whether or not it made much of a difference where the other crewmen were concerned. Most of the crew seemed happy just being normal men again. But Bootstrap insisted on using the title. Out of respect, he'd said.

"Yes, Mr. Turner? Is there something wrong?" Will asked. They'd experienced a lull in the number of lost souls in the past several hours, and although the time had given the crew time to conduct basic ship maintenance, the quiet had made Will uneasy.

"No, sir. Ogilvey just finished rigging the new topsail and I thought I'd update you on his progress."

"Thank you, Mr. Turner." Will knew that the crew was largely self-sufficient once given orders and that this little bit of news was unnecessary. And he knew that Bootstrap knew that, too.

Bootstrap made as if to leave, then stopped. "You know, Captain... Will..."

Will searched his father's face for some indication of the reason for his father's hesitation. It had taken him over a week to convince Bootstrap that his numerous apologies were quite enough and that he'd been forgiven for leaving Will and his mother in England, but that didn't mean the older man stopped coming up with new reasons to apologize. It was almost annoying, Will had to admit, but he wasn't about to condemn the man for trying to repent. He softened his tone and shook his head. "If it's another apology for some imagined crime, I won't listen to it," he said.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Bootstrap seemed to take a sudden interest in his own shadow. "You've grown into a good man, William. You'd do any father proud," he said in his gravelly voice. He swallowed hard and smiled, looking up at Will and wincing as the sun hit his eyes. "How'd you come to be such a strong, honorable man?"

Will considered his father for a moment, realizing that he was actually trying to begin a conversation. A smile cut across his own face and he leaned sideways against the deck railing. "Determination," he said.

Bootstrap nodded, swaying with the rocking of the ship. "Aye, even when you were a boy, you had a stubborn streak in you."

"I don't think stubbornness has anything to do with it, to be honest."

"Oh?"

"When I made the crossing from England, the ship I was on was attacked about two days away from our destination port. I was rescued from the sea, taken to Port Royal, and set up as a blacksmith's apprentice. I realized that I had been handed a sure future and I wasn't going to let it go to waste." A wistful look took over Will's expression and he rubbed the pale scar that ran across the palm of his left hand.

Bootstrap ambled over to the railing and stood in front of his son. "You were very lucky. Who found you?" he asked, suspecting the answer had something to do with the scar and the person associated with it.

"Elizabeth and her father were on the ship that discovered the wreck of mine. I was clinging to a piece of driftwood and she was the one who spotted me." Will took in a deep breath of salty air. "She taught me to read, you know," he said. "She said she thought it was silly that I could do sums but could barely write my name."

"Your Elizabeth does seem the type to share her opinion rather freely," Bootstrap said with a grin.

Will laughed in agreement. "Oh, you have no idea. Saying that she has a mind of her own doesn't even begin to describe her nature. I distinctly remember the time Elizabeth's father confronted her when he caught us alone in the parlor. He scolded her for being in my company without a chaperone. And I believe her exact response was, 'damn propriety'. She then proceeded to tell the governor that it shouldn't matter whether I chose to ravish her before or after our wedding and that if I were going to do so, it certainly wouldn't be in a parlor with open doors and windows."

"I'm sure he wasn't entirely pleased with that," Bootstrap gasped between laughs.

"Definitely not. I was terrified that he might kick me out of the room at that very moment. But I think he knew- even if he didn't want to admit it- that if someone in our relationship were going to exceed the bounds of propriety and take initiative in any ravishing, it'd be Elizabeth," said Will. "She knows what she wants and she doesn't let anyone prevent her from getting it."

"Your mother was much the same way."

The admission sobered Will. Sea spray tickled his face and he blinked. "Was she?" His mother had been so sickly in her last few years that Will had few memories of her in good health and spirit.

"Aye. She was a strong woman."

The wind picked up suddenly and a cry from the crow's nest cut through the chantey of the crewmen working on deck. "Souls! A whole slew of 'em 'bout half a league off of the port side!"

Will's head snapped up. "I'd like to continue our conversation later, if you'd find the time to stop by my cabin this evening. In the mean time, Mr. Turner, I believe we have a job to do."

Bootstrap nodded and headed for the wheel. He watched as his son and captain, already as darkly tanned as any sailor, began to call out orders. "Hang the jib, men!" he shouted. "We've souls to guide!"

There was a scrambling across the deck as men checked rigging and set about their duties. A number of small dots on the horizon grew larger as they neared the cluster of souls lost at sea. There must have been a storm of some sort, Will realized. A glance at his father's creased brow suggested he was thinking the same thing. Perhaps getting to know his father wouldn't be as hard as he thought. In the mean time, mused Will, he had his own duties to attend to.


End file.
